Ranma 1/2: Localization
by Foxboy
Summary: The year is 1879, and the Random Hill neighborhood of San Francisco is about to get a little weird.(updated chapter 2)
1. Part the First

Ranma 1/2: Localization

fanfic by Logan J. Goodhue (foxboy2000@hotmail.com)

05 June 2001

*******************************************

FIRST FIC ALERT

This is an attempt at a ham-handed localization of the Ranma 1/2 story to the American Wild West. Seriously. Hey! Stop laughing! Um, wait a sec, it's supposed to be comedic... So, go ahead and laugh, enjoy any WAFF's that show up, and give me feedback, please!

*******************************************

Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 characters, etc. are Copyright and TM Rumiko Takahashi. Characters appearing in this fic who are *NOT* obviously from the Ranmaverse (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) are copyright 2001 Logan J. Goodhue, most notably Xi Mei-Ling, Master Xiao Xien, and any self insertion I can't resist putting in. (I'll try to avoid the temptation, really!) Any real people in the fic have been dead for a long time, so they don't care and are public domain/fair use, anyway.

*******************************************

From the cobblestones and brickwork of the richer parts of the city, to the dirt roads near the edge of town, the streets of San Francisco were wet. A sudden downpour had just tapered off, and people were returning to their daily routines. A drunk was being thrown out of the Gold Strike Saloon for the thirtieth time that day. A teamster was steering a team pulling kegs of beer on a delivery route. A man and woman were arguing loudly. And Norton the First, Emperor of the United States of America and Protector of Mexico, was selling postage to curious travelers. 

Nearby, the sudden scream of a horse signaled something was wrong. A massive brown, furry shape was thundering down the street, chasing a young girl dressed in loose-fitting buckskins and moccasins with her flame-red hair braided into a pigtail.

"EEEEEEEK!!!! A bear!" a woman screamed.

"Goldurn it! A grizzly!" shouted a man.

"What's that girl doing?" someone asked.

The girl turned and faced the bear, taking up a boxing stance.

"Alright, Paw," she said in a rough accent. "Put up yer dukes!"

To the amazement of the involuntary spectators, the bear did just that. Grinning slightly, the girl threw a terrific haymaker at the bear. The bear simply moved its head out of the way, and launched a brutal swipe at her. Ducking down, she avoided the swipe and landed an uppercut under the grizzly's jaw. It went flying back about a hundred feet.

"An _arranged marriage_?" she asked the bear. "We're Americans, Paw. We don't do stuff like that anymore!" She turned away from the bear and huffed. "Well, I ain't gonna marry nobody until our situation's taken care of. Chew on _that_, old man!" With that, she stormed off in the direction she had come from.

Unseen by the girl, but not by the panicked townsfolk, the bear got up and picked up a watering trough. On its hind legs, the bear rushed the girl and slammed the trough in the back of her head, knocking her out. Dropping the trough, the bear bent over and slung the girl over its back.

"Shouldn't we help her?" asked one bystander.

"Yeah," replied another, drawing his revolver. "Let's get it!"

Hearing this, the bear turned around and bellowed at the onlookers, scaring them off. Satisfied, it turned and began walking towards the Random Hill neighborhood.

Smiling softly, Emperor Norton turned to his customers and said, "That's why I love San Francisco, every day is a surprise!" Unbelieving, they just stared at him.

************************************************

Sam Tendollar sat in his parlor, reading his copy of the _San Francisco Chronicle_. He was a handsome individual, but perhaps not classically so. Tall, with shoulder-length black hair and a handlebar mustache, his Indian blood was obvious. Silently scanning the columns, he found what he was looking for.

"Ah, Mister Twain, let's see what you've gotten yourself into," he said, more to himself than out loud. He enjoyed Mark Twain's wit, and was glad of the escape. It was the only thing , other than booze, that could keep his mind off the pain inside. The pain caused by the death of his wife, ten years ago.

"Father," his eldest daughter said from the doorway, "would you like some tea?"

"Yes, Cassandra," he said. "thank you very much." Well, maybe not the _only_ thing. His daughters were a source of pride for him. She brought in the silver tea service and set it down on the low table in front of him.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"Mister Johnson brought us our mail, and it appears you have a Telegram." She handed the papers over, poured her father's tea, and left the room to return to preparing dinner.

A telegram? Who could have possibly sent _him _a telegram? Curious, he tore the envelope open and read it.

LT. TENDOLLAR - TENDOLLAR GYM - RANDOM HILL - SAN FRANCISCO, CALIF. USA

AM BRINGING ROBIN STOP

WILL ARRIVE SOON STOP

LT. GENE SAYERTON, US ARMY, RET.

Tears began flowing freely down his cheeks. Robin was coming! He paused for a moment to let that sink in. Robin was coming! Finally, the promise he and his good friend Gene had made after the Battle of Gettysburg could be fulfilled. One of his daughters would marry Sayerton's son and carry on the traditions of his lost tribe's unarmed combat methods, and his boxing gym would continue after his death.

Smiling, he began to call after his daughters.

"Cassandra! Naomi! Annie!" 

Cassandra entered the room first, wiping her hands on her apron. Then, before she could say anything, her sister Naomi followed, holding a rolled-up copy of the _Wall Street Journal_.

"What is it, Dad?" Naomi asked archly. "Did Mister Twain say something pointed about the Mayor again?"

"No," Sam replied. "It's something much better, but I want to wait until Annie gets here before I tell you what it is. Do you know where she is?"

"She's where she always goes after school," Naomi snorted. "She's pounding away on those bags in the gym."

"I'd better go after her, then," said Cassandra. "If it has anything to do with the telegram, then it must be important." She headed out towards the gym behind the house.

"Telegram?" Naomi blinked, then narrowed her eyes. "what's this about a telegram, Dad?"

"I'll tell you when your sisters are back, and not before."

"Fine," she replied icily, then regretted it almost instantly as she saw the beginning of Little Niagara Falls. Whatever it was, she _knew_ she was either not going to like it, or make a killing in selling information.

************************************************

Anne Tendollar was beating the living daylights out of her father's strength bag. The gym had been her refuge since her mother's death. Her sisters had each coped with the loss differently. Cassandra had taken over the running of the household, cleaning, cooking, and so on. Naomi had taken to balancing their father's books. Anne herself had taken up the unarmed combat arts. Admittedly, both Naomi's and her activities were a little unusual for women, but her father had been simply devastated by their family's loss. If Naomi hadn't begun doing the books, then they wouldn't have had a house. If Anne hadn't insisted on training in her father's arts, then her father would have become a drunk in a gutter. It wasn't something she wanted to dwell on right now. She had some frustration to work off. 

Each blow she landed on the bag was release for pent-up anger. Anger at the boys who constantly tried to gang up on her. Anger at the teachers who let them. Anger at the world that said that girls couldn't stand up for themselves. Anger at . . . herself?

Behind her, she heard a throat being cleared.

"Oh, hello, Cassie," she said. "Do you want something?"

"Father has something he wants to tell us, Annie," she said softly. "Why don't you join us?"

************************************************


	2. Part the Second

Ranma 1/2: Localization Part the Second

fanfic by Logan J. Goodhue (foxboy2000@hotmail.com)

07 June 2001

*******************************************

FIRST FIC ALERT

This is an attempt at a ham-handed localization of the Ranma 1/2 story to the American Wild West. Seriously. Hey! Stop laughing! Um, wait a sec, it's supposed to be comedic... So, go ahead and laugh, enjoy any WAFF's that show up, and give me feedback, please!

*******************************************

Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 characters, etc. are Copyright and TM Rumiko Takahashi. Characters appearing in this fic who are *NOT* obviously from the Ranmaverse (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) are copyright 2001 Logan J. Goodhue, most notably Xi Mei-Ling, Master Xiao Xien, and any self insertion I can't resist putting in. (I'll try to avoid the temptation, really!) Any real people in the fic have been dead for a long time, so they don't care and are public domain/fair use, anyway.

A special note on ethnicity: In order to keep the confusion to a minimum, "Indian" in this fic refers to "Native Americans," and "Hindu/Hindi" refers to natives of India. I am attempting to be sensitive in the use of epithets, slurs, etc. (i.e., I ain't using 'em unless the _CHARACTER_ would, and only if I can't dodge it any other way!) In the interest of fairness, most, if not all, of the tribes I will be using are made up of whole cloth, so I don't embarrass myself by having an Apache act like a Seminole or some such thing. 

*******************************************

Seated around the coffee table in the parlor, the Tendollar family was discussing the telegram, its contents, and their significance.

"Fiancé?!?" Anne said incredulously. "What's all this about a fiancé?"

"Now calm down, Annie," Cassandra said soothingly. "Why don't we hear Father out first?"

"That's easy for _you_ to say, sis," said Naomi. "You're practically engaged to Doctor O'Neill anyway."

"Girls, please!" Sam said nervously. "This was all decided long ago. My friend Gene and I were scouts together in the War of Secession under the same commanding officer. We had both studied various forms of unarmed combat together, and didn't want them to disappear from the earth. So, we decided to marry two of our children, to carry on the tradition of my father's tribe, the Muskakur."

"Then why," Anne spit out, "are you telling us about this for the first time, the day our supposed fiancé is due to arrive?"

"Heh heh heh…" he chuckled lamely. Changing the subject a little, he continued. "Anyway, my friend Gene and his son have spent the last ten years traveling across the country, improving their skills! Why, they've even been to New Orleans!"

"New Orleans?" Annie asked, incredulously. "What's so great about going to New Orleans? It's not like they went to China or anything, right?"

"Well, I suppose you're right about that," Sam conceded, "but, well, taking ten years to train in anything is rather special, don't you think?"

A calculating look crossed Naomi's face. Thinking a bit, she turned back to her father.

"So what's this Robin Sayerton like?" she asked. "Is he at least good-looking?" 

"I have no idea," he said genially. "I've never met him." Looking around the room at his thunderstruck daughters, he realized he was in trouble.

In unison, his daughters reacted.

"_WHAT?!?_"

"Daddy, how _could_ you?"

"Dad, this is going to cost you."

"Oh, my!"

Realizing his error, Sam Tendollar did the only thing he could do. He cried. Immediately, Cassandra embraced him and began the long task of calming him down.

"Shh, Father," she said. "It will be all right."

Just then, a knock was heard at the front door. Springing up, Sam shouted for joy.

"That must be them!" he exclaimed, all tears forgotten.

"I'll get the door, Dad," said Naomi, getting up. "It's my turn anyway."

Sweeping towards the front door with her father in tow, Naomi put on a false smile. She felt that she should at least pretend to be glad to see her potential fiancé. She opened the door, then immediately wished she hadn't. Standing before her was a great, big . . .

"_BEAR!!!!!!!_" she screamed as she turned and ran. Her father followed very close behind; so did the bear. "Do you know this bear, Dad?" Seeing her father's enthusiastic head shake, she added with a touch of venom, "So bears just show up every day, right?"

The merry chase ended in the parlor, when the bear's previously unnoticed burden awoke and tapped it on the shoulder.

"Dagnabbit, Paw! You're scarin' 'em senseless!" the buckskin-clad figure said. Stopping, the bear set its cargo down in a chair and stood back.

"And you are?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I'm Robin Sayerton," she replied glumly. "Sorry 'bout this."

Tears welling up in his eyes, Sam embraced Robin. "Oh, Robin, what a great day this is!"

"Oh, he _is_ cute!" Naomi said, then blinked. Looking closer, she saw something wrong. Reaching out to touch it, she encountered a softness on Robin's chest she wasn't expecting. "Daddy, 'he' is a girl!"

Blushing furiously, Robin muttered softly, "Um, could you not do that?"

Meanwhile, Sam was in shock. What was going on? What was this his daughter was saying? Why was a bear sitting on his sofa?

"Some fiancé this is!" Naomi exploded. "Couldn't you have made sure your friend had a son before you engaged one of us?"

"But he said he had a son…" Sam trailed off. The tears were beginning to flow again.

"Do you see a son here?" Naomi asked hysterically. "Do you ?" Unconsciously, her hand was still examining Robin's chest.

"Um," Robin said, "I _really_ wish you wouldn't do that."

Anne extricated Robin from her father's death-grip and her sister's probe and took her aside.

"Hi," she said, smiling. "I'm Anne Tendollar. Wanna be friends?"

"Um," Robin replied cautiously. "I think I'd like that."

************************************************

Robin had come to on her father's shoulder. No, that wasn't right. _He _had come to on _his_ father's shoulder. He glanced around, and noticed that he was in a rather nice house, and that his father was still in bear form. Therefore, the residents of the house were panicking. He tapped his father on the shoulder.

"Dagnabbit, Paw! You're scarin' 'em senseless!" he hollered. Hearing his voice, he realized he was still in girl form. Damn. If these people were the Tendollars, then his father had screwed up their first meeting. His father reached up and set him down on a couch in the well-decorated parlor. The unusual activity for a bear had startled his hosts, so he took the opportunity to examine his surroundings. The parlor was fairly typical, if more tasteful than most, with decoration that seemed to come from someone's military past. Ignoring the doodads for now, he turned his focus on the people in the room.

Three girls and a man surrounded him. The man was about Paw's age, and obviously a half-blooded Indian. _That must be Mister Tendollar,_ Robin thought. The two eldest girls were in rather conservative dresses, and their youngest sister was in the somewhat daring attire of loose jacket and trousers. All of the girls were beautiful, but each in a different way. The eldest was graceful, with long auburn hair tied in a loose ponytail over her shoulder. She seemed to give off an aura of kindness, compassion and warmth. The middle sister had a rather severe look with her brown hair done in a straight style that ended at her jawbone. She just radiated ice and a mercenary air.

The third sister, however, had a look that set Robin's hormones to racing. Her hair was a black as a raven's wing, and flowed straight down to the small of her back, where It was loosely tied with a blue ribbon. Her attire was perhaps a little scandalous to the rest of the world, but on her it looked right. Robin felt the energy he had come to expect off of people who had studied the combat arts, but a little inexperienced. He was in love. _Maybe this arranged marriage thing could have worked out,_ he thought, _if only Paw had thought to get some hot water before we came._

He was shaken out of his reverie by Mister Tendollar's voice, asking him who he was.

"I'm Robin Sayerton," he replied. "Sorry 'bout this."

Things devolved quickly, with Mister Tendollar hugging him and babbling about something or other. Things further got weird when the middle daughter flew off the handle and started fondling Robin's chest. He blushed furiously.

"Um, could you not do that?" he muttered softly. Embarrassed, he was too numb to realize what was going on, until she fondled his chest. Again. "Um, I _really _wish you wouldn't do that."

Things were looking dismal, until the youngest daughter extricated him from her father's death grip. She pulled him away from the ball of spite and angst of which he had formerly been a part.

"Hi," she said, smiling. "I'm Anne Tendollar. Wanna be friends?"

"Um," Robin replied cautiously. "I think I'd like that." _Gee, she sure is pretty when she smiles,_ he thought.

Anne led him on a tour of the house, showing him where the important things were, and telling him about some contraptions around the house. His curiosity was piqued by the running water in the kitchen and the indoor outhouse. 

"How does that work?" he asked pointing to the huge chamber pot with a huge box on a pipe over it. "And, what is it?"

"It's called a flush commode," Anne said, embarrassed. "My father has helped a lot of inventors in this area, and one of them made this for us. It keeps the, um, waste from smelling up the house. It's really quite sanitary."

"Oh," Robin said. Embarrassed himself, he decided to get out of the situation. "My Paw said your family ran a gym. Can I see it?"

Relieved at the chance to avoid the topic they'd been on, Annie took him out the back door to the gym. They walked through a quiet garden with a large fish pond. Robin stared, knowing that he and that fish pond were going to know each other very well. He shivered slightly.

"What's wrong?" Anne asked.

"I have this . . . _thing_ about water," he said cautiously. "It's nothing major, but I'm a little skittish about large pools, lakes, whatever."

_Poor girl,_ Anne thought, _she probably can't swim, either._ Their wandering stopped as they reached the large building behind the house. It was a combination of gym, stables and bathhouse. They entered through the stables and Anne stopped and talked to the three horses there.

"Those are some nice horses," Robin said. "What breed are they?"

"Well, Butternut here," she said pointing to the palomino mare she was standing next to, "is a Quarter horse." She pointed to a smaller, chestnut mare across the aisle. "That's Wildfire, a Morgan. And this," she said walking up to a snorting black gelding, "is Diablo, a Mustang."

"Huh," he said intelligently. "Well, they certainly look well-cared-for."

"Thanks," she said. "We all take the time to keep them happy. Daddy says it's part of our heritage to care for animals, and I don't want to disappoint him. Well, on to the gym!"

Stepping into the next room, they entered the gym. Robin whistled a low note of appreciation. The set-up was nice, and everything in the room made sense. Well, almost; Robin couldn't quite figure out what that thing in the corner that looked like a tree with its foliage cut off was. Seeing his look, Anne supplied the answer to the unasked question.

"That's a training apparatus Dad bought in Chinatown," she said. "We haven't quite figured it out yet, but I'm sure it will help. As dad says, the single most important tenet of the Muskakur combat arts is, 'Hey whatever works!'" She raised her shoulders in an expansive shrug and winked. They both laughed, Anne giggling and Robin chuckling.

"That sounds like something my Paw would say, too," Robin replied dryly.

"Really?" Anne asked, curious. "Do you know the Muskakur arts?"

"Among others," he said. "Do you wanna spar?"

"Sure!" Anne replied.

*******************************************

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I would greatly appreciate some "C & C" on this one… I've worked out the analogues of just about all of the normal Ranmaverse, except Ryoga. So, here's a chance for your voice to count for something. Should I have Ryoga be Meiji-era Japanese, or convert him to an American, as well? He's the only character I could see as remaining unchanged, but I also want him to fit the setting. . .

As a further note, the name Muskakur comes from the Japanese _ musabetsu kakuto ryu,_ which means School of Indiscriminate Grappling or Anything-Goes Martial Arts. Sorry there was no fight this time, but next time may well have two or three... And that's just with Anne (Akane) and Robin (Ranma)!


	3. Part the Third

Ranma 1/2: Localization Part the Third

fanfic by Logan J. Goodhue (foxboy2000@hotmail.com)

12 June 2001

*******************************************

FIRST FIC ALERT

This is an attempt at a ham-handed localization of the Ranma 1/2 story to the American Wild West. Seriously. Hey! Stop laughing! Um, wait a sec, it's supposed to be comedic... sort of. So, go ahead and laugh, enjoy any WAFF's that show up, and give me feedback, please!

*******************************************

Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 characters, etc. are Copyright and TM Rumiko Takahashi. Characters appearing in this fic who are *NOT* obviously from the Ranmaverse (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) are copyright 2001 Logan J. Goodhue, most notably Xi Mei-Ling, Master Xiao Xien, and any self insertion I can't resist putting in. (I'll try to avoid the temptation, really!) Any real people in the fic have been dead for a long time, so they don't care and are public domain/fair use, anyway.

A special note on ethnicity: In order to keep the confusion to a minimum, "Indian" in this fic refers to "Native Americans," and "Hindu/Hindi" refers to natives of India. I am attempting to be sensitive in the use of epithets, slurs, etc. (i.e., I ain't using 'em unless the _CHARACTER_ would, and only if I can't dodge it any other way!) In the interest of fairness, most, if not all, of the tribes I will be using are made up of whole cloth, so I don't embarrass myself by having an Apache act like a Seminole or some such thing. 

*******************************************

White Rain gazed around the campsite and cursed softly. She'd lost that red-haired bitch's trail again. This had to be the most difficult honor quest in the history of the Naxe tribe, as well as the most annoying. It should have been easier, because the bitch didn't seem to have any woodscraft at all. She left so many scraps of cloth and broken branches in her wake that even a three-year-old could have trailed her to the ends of the earth. Yet, she still managed to throw the best tracker in history off her trail. Well, not for long, at least.

White Rain smiled to herself as she remembered her prey's weakness. Rivers, streams, and lakes seemed to make her forget that she was being trailed, and she got even more sloppy. She actually left footprints. Frowning, White Rain remembered that she always lost the trail at campsites. That nagged at something in her memory, but she couldn't place it just yet. Sighing, she began the long arcs she needed to find her prey's trail. She found what she was looking for as she stepped from the mountains and into land settled by the palefaces. The trail seemed to follow a road. Well, that was easy. Loping along in an easy, ground-chewing stride, she came upon some paleface farmers. She stopped, and hailed them.

"Where road go?" she asked in her stilted English. By the spirits, she _hated_ how dumb she sounded in that language.

"It goes to San Francisco, Miss," one of the farmers said, removing his hat.

"Thank you," she said. _Hmm, not all palefaces treat us poorly_, she thought. _I shall have to tell the elders when I return that we won't have to kill them all. _Smirking, she trotted off to this . . . San Francisco.

"Jeb," asked the other farmer, "why did you treat her so nice? I thought you hated all them Injuns. Even if they're purty."

"I do, Clem," Jeb replied, "but you jest don't mess with the Naxe Amazons. It ain't healthy."

"What?!? The Naxe? How'd you know she was Naxe?"

"Because she had purple hair. They're all purty, but their hair is jest natcherly weird colors."

"Dayamn! Glad I didn't try to 'make her acquaintance!'"

"You and me both, Clem. You and me both."

*******************************************

"So," Robin said. "What are we gonna spar in?"

"I don't know," Anne said, blinking. "What styles do you know? If we share a style, I guess we should do that."

"Hmmm. Well, Muskakur arts aren't exactly designed for simple sparring. Do you know any boxing?"

"Boxing?!? Isn't that a little unladylike?" Anne asked in disbelief.

"_Savate_?"

"Why would I know that? I've never been to France!"

"Shaolin Kung Fu?"

"What's that? Grrr... I guess we'd better spar in the Muskakur style." _Wow,_ Anne thought, _All that training must have paid off! She knows styles I haven't even heard of!_

"Well, Muskakur fighting it is, then!" Robin said smiling. "Just let me change into something more appropriate, then I'll be right back!"

"Okay. Umm, we have a changing room and some fighting outfits in the bath house. Just take the door on the right, you can't miss it."

"All right!" Robin said while going through the door. "See ya in a bit!" 

Robin closed the door behind him and made his way to the changing room. A mirror hung on one wall, and a door led to the bath. He looked in puzzlement at a large black tank. Examining it closer, he realized it was warm, and filled with water. He was happy to have found it, but was hesitant to use it. After all, Anne was expecting to spar with a girl. She might react badly to a boy suddenly walking out of the room Robin had entered.

"Tarnation!" he said. "What should I do now?"

_I thought you'd never ask,_ a soft, feminine voice whispered in his mind.

"Show yourself!" Robin said. "Where are you?"

_Why don't you look in that mirror? _Soft, gentle laughter danced through his head. _It's about time we were properly introduced. After all, we will be together for a very long time._

Robin cautiously went over to the mirror, looking at his reflection. _What's going on?_ he wondered to himself. The mirror showed a beautiful redheaded girl in simple, loose buckskins. It was what he'd come to expect to see after he was doused with cold water.

_Oh, good! _the voice squealed. _We're_ beautiful! _You must have a good soul!_

Robin was in shock. When the voice spoke, his reflection's lips moved. He moved his hand to his lips, and noticed his reflection's hand had strayed to its hip. And what was this about a good soul? Was he going crazy?

No, the voice whispered, _you're not going crazy. _The reflection took up a formal pose. _Allow me to introduce myself. I am Maiden, your totem spirit._ She curtseyed. _ It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Robin Sayerton._

Robin gibbered a little. _Totem spirit?_ he thought. _How'd I get a totem spirit?_

That's not important right now, the reflection replied gently. _What's important is I give you advice on the question you asked. Do you still want to know what you should do?_

Numbly, Robin nodded.

_It's the easiest thing in the world,_ she said grandly. _Tell her the truth!_

*******************************************

Ko Lon stepped off the junk, much to the relief of the captain. Her rolling walk accentuated every curve of her body and fluttered her long blonde hair behind her. She had been disastrous for morale on the long voyage from China to America. True, she was beautiful, but she was also one of those Amazons from Joketzoku. Thus, she took on an unseemly superior attitude, and, what was worse, she had every reason to have it.

The captain remembered when she had stepped aboard in Shanghai. Everyone had looked for her husband, to ask him what was going on. She didn't have one. She had said that she would take the first "outsider" male to defeat her in combat as her husband. Several of his crewmen had taken her up on the offer. They were still in Shanghai being treated for their injuries. The captain, having heard of her tribe, hadn't even tried. It had been a long trip. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he turned to her.

"Honored Ko Lon," he said politely. "Welcome to San Francisco. May you find what you seek."

"Thank you, Honored Captain," she said. "I know I will." _Hmm,_ she thought,_ I hope I can find that pervert Happosai. He said he was on a "world tour." That means he'll come to America soon enough._ Whistling softly, she strode past the wharf and into Chinatown. The streets were a little wider than she would have expected, and even though they looked a little slapdash, this street looked more prosperous than many villages she had seen. Caught in her reverie, she almost didn't notice the small gang of round-eyed demons surrounding her. Of course, they weren't _really_ demons, but that's what she had heard everyone else call them. She was glad she had learned English, that meant this could be resolved fairly easily.

"Hey, sweet cheeks," the leader of the gang said insultingly, "how about you and me gettin' together? I can show you a 'good time!'"

"I think not," she said icily, her musical voice caressing each syllable. "Only a man who can defeat me may be my husband, and I don't think you qualify."

"Awright missy, you asked for it!" he shouted. Pulling back for a haymaker, he blinked in astonishment. She had jumped fifty feet straight up. Slack jawed, he watched as she produced two huge maces out of nowhere and proceeded to soundly thrash his entire gang. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, he ran.

Sighing, Ko Lon put away her bonbori. She was disappointed. Was there no man who could defeat her in combat? She was sixteen, and nobody had ever defeated her in a serious fight. Was she doomed to die an old maid? _Enough of that,_ she thought. _I need to find "Happy" and recover the secret techniques he has stolen._

Leaping to the rooftops, she began her search.

*******************************************

Walking past the parlor, Naomi Tendollar saw her father talking with a strange man. The stranger was huge, a veritable bear of a man, dressed in buckskins. His head was bald, but he had a bushy red beard. Her father was crying, but controlled. _So,_ she thought,_ this stranger has brought Dad some good news. _She continued to the kitchen, where Cassandra was preparing dinner.

"Hey, Cassie," Naomi said. "Who's the guy with dad?"

"Oh, that's Mister Sayerton, Robin's father!" Cassandra replied cheerfully.

Smirking to herself, Naomi went to her room. Someone who couldn't tell after sixteen years that he had a daughter instead of a son would be gullible enough to fall for even her simplest schemes. Life was good.

*******************************************

Anne was starting to get worried. It didn't take that long to change into one of the training outfits. _Is Robin all right?_ she thought._ Maybe I should check on her._

Just then, the door to the bath house opened and Anne saw Robin come out. She had changed into an outfit that was much too big for her, and was carrying a steaming bucket. What was going on?

"Anne," Robin began, "I have a terrible secret, and I'll understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore when you know it."

"What are you talking about, Robin?" Anne asked. She was amazed. Robin already considered her a friend? That was good. She _wanted_ to be Robin's friend. "Whatever it is, sure, I'll be your friend. I promise on my honor as a Muskakur." Anne was relieved to see her relax a little.

"I have this . . . condition. It's why I'm skittish about water. I'm going to tell you about it, but first, can we spar?" A hopeful look crossed Robin's face.

"All right," Anne said, getting into the ring. "Lets go." She stood in a ready stance, waiting.

Relief flooded the redhead's face. Doing a triple backflip Robin jumped into the ring, landing in a nearly identical ready stance.

"Showoff," Anne said with good humor. Gathering her strength, she prepared to fight. "Let's go!"

She rushed the redhead, swinging. Robin simply dodged. Anne snapped some more punches at her opponent, but they were easily dodged. She threw some kicks, and Robin backflipped out of the way.

_Is she reading my moves? _Anne thought. _And why isn't she attacking? Right. This time, for real!_

Charging, and putting all of her might into it, she blasted out a haymaker. Robin disappeared, and Anne's fist connected with the turnbuckle, destroying it. Stunned she looked at the damage she'd done, and felt a tap on her shoulder. Robin had jumped behind her, and was smiling. Hesitantly, she giggled. Anne joined her.

"Wow," Anne said. "You're pretty good. I'm just glad you're not a boy."

Robin looked like a deer just spotting a hunter. She seemed to tense up, then relaxed, getting a determined look on her face.

"Are you sure about that?" Robin asked softly. 

"What's wrong?" Confused, Anne looked at Robin. 

"Anne, it's my secret. I really _am_ a boy," Robin said.

"That's ridiculous!" Anne said looking Robin over. "You definitely look like a girl to me!"

"I know," she said sadly. "Here, I'll show you."

Robin grabbed the still-steaming bucket and upended it over her head. When she did, Anne stared in shock. Where Robin had stood in ill-fitting clothes, a boy stood in well-fitting, if wet, garments. But they were the same clothes! The boy was as handsome as Robin was beautiful, and had his black hair braided into an identical pigtail.

"Wh-who are you?" Anne asked in disbelief.

"I'm Robin Sayerton," the boy replied with a sheepish grin. "Sorry 'bout this."

Anne did the only thing she could do at this point. She fainted.

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	4. Part the Fourth

Ranma 1/2: Localization Part the Fourth

fanfic by Logan J. Goodhue (foxboy2000@hotmail.com)

05 July 2001

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FIRST FIC ALERT

This is an attempt at a ham-handed localization of the Ranma 1/2 story to the American Wild West. Seriously. Hey! Stop laughing! Um, wait a sec, it's supposed to be comedic... sort of. So, go ahead and laugh, enjoy any WAFF's that show up, and give me feedback, please!

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Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 characters, etc. are Copyright and TM Rumiko Takahashi. Characters appearing in this fic who are *NOT* obviously from the Ranmaverse (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) are copyright 2001 Logan J. Goodhue, most notably Xi Mei-Ling, Master Xiao Xien, and any self insertion I can't resist putting in. (I'll try to avoid the temptation, really!) Any real people in the fic have been dead for a long time, so they don't care and are public domain/fair use, anyway.

A special note on ethnicity: In order to keep the confusion to a minimum, "Indian" in this fic refers to "Native Americans," and "Hindu/Hindi" refers to natives of India. I am attempting to be sensitive in the use of epithets, slurs, etc. (i.e., I ain't using 'em unless the _CHARACTER_ would, and only if I can't dodge it any other way!) In the interest of fairness, most, if not all, of the tribes I will be using are made up of whole cloth, so I don't embarrass myself by having an Apache act like a Seminole or some such thing. 

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Xiao Xien looked disapprovingly on the other passengers in the stagecoach. He looked disapprovingly on most other people, it was true, but _these_ people were in for the frowning of a lifetime. Well, except for his granddaughter, Xi Mei-Ling, they were.

A soft smile crept across his lips as he observed her proper behavior. She sat quietly, seeming no more than a carved statue. She was the very epitome of control. Not a drop of sweat marred her alabaster skin in the ghastly California heat. Her perfectly styled mahogany hair never stirred in the breeze of the coach's movement. Her jade-colored eyes never wavered from the point approximately three inches above the head of the man across from her. Her soft, even breathing barely flared the nostrils underneath the light dusting of freckles no amount of powder could ever hide.

_So much like her mother,_ he thought for the thousandth time. While many men considered her beautiful, and never thought beyond that, Xien knew her better than any man alive. Beneath her half-blood exterior dwelt a lively spirit that loved to laugh and sing to the heavens, a spirit he encouraged. It would not do to crush it totally. Control it, yes, but never crush it. After all, wizards weren't often in the habit of lying to themselves or letting their family do the same. Besides, the sheer power she had gotten from her mother's lineage came with a fey temperament. Literally.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he returned his scowl to the other passengers. When they had come aboard in Los Angeles, the man and his wife had tried to have him placed on the outside bench, where they thought "Chinamen" belonged. He had merely handed the driver an extra twenty-dollar gold coin and smiled at them. They at least had the grace to look shocked. Too bad those were the only manners the couple had displayed. They had been garrulous and rudely silent in turns throughout the trip, with their favorite topic being how America was being ruined by all the immigrants. Hypocrites. Stealing the land from the Indians, building a huge country on the backs of the poor who had come seeking hope, and enslaving or taking advantage of people just because of the color of their skin? Then having the temerity to completely ignore the fact that even one generation ago, _their_ family were immigrants? Inexcusable. He intensified his inscrutable scowl.

He had been greatly relieved to notice they hadn't said anything about Mei-Ling, but he supposed that was due to the simple glamour she was projecting. He had told her to practice her magic more, to hopefully gain more control over her fickle, yet staggering power. It had worked, to a point. She could perform simple spells without too much trouble: minor divinations, lighting candles, and the like. As the power of the spell increased, her control diminished. She had power to burn, and it usually did as it wished. It would build up, and add strange effects to everyday occurrences. She was practically followed everywhere by a cloud of flower petals, unless she was concentrating, like she was now.

With a sigh of relief, Xien saw that the couple was getting off at the next stop. Good. He had been so busy thinking, that he hadn't given them a proper scowling. Not that they'd appreciate it. He sighed, allowing the bad vibrations to leave with them. Now he could meditate in peace until the coach reached the pass in the Sierra Madres which led to Million Springs, and his home by the magical site known as both Totem Springs by the natives and as New Jusenkyo by the small bands of Chinese immigrants trying to eke out an existence in the shadow of a failed mining town.

_I hope there haven't been any unusual visitors,_ he thought. _ I left Pao Long in charge of the Springs._ The idiot had been the youngest son of the family that held the post of Guide to the springs in Jusenkyo, and couldn't seem to get it through his head that the place was subtly different. He had been sent to America to try to keep him away from the real springs and the Nichiezu village. _Fat lot of good _that_ did._ He harrumphed. _How were we to know there'd be an Amazon tribe in America, too? And Long even uses the "very tragic story" bit that's been done to death!_ Xien remembered, too, that Long tended to use the legends from Jusenkyo instead of the true tales that had been told by the lost Muskakur tribe of Indians. _Ah, well. It can't have been too bad. I would have noticed a change in the dragon lines by now if something unexpected had happened._

Suddenly, Mei-Ling sneezed, and Xien found himself sitting on the ground next to a pumpkin, four startled mice, and a very confused-looking dog. Mei-Ling looked embarrassed, and said the word that sent a thrill of fear through anyone who knew her.

"Oops!"

As the flower petals swirled around them, Xien thought, not for the first time, how much nicer it would be when Mei-Ling wasn't a teenager anymore and had some control.

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Sam Tendollar looked at his friend Gene in amazement.

"You found one of my tribe's holy sites?" he asked incredulously. "Which one?"

"We found Totem Springs," Gene said softly. "And, apparently, we accidentally angered the guardian spirits. They cursed us." He looked puzzled for a minute, then looked around as if he heard something, but couldn't locate it.

"What curse did they lay on you?"

"I'd rather only explain this once, so when Robin gets back, I'll tell the whole family."

Sam was concerned, but trusted his friend enough to let him take however long it took to explain the strange circumstances of his arrival. Knowing that Gene's daughter Robin was sparring with his daughter Anne, he decided to spend some time getting reacquainted with his old Army buddy.

"Do you still play chess, Gene?" he asked.

"Some," Gene said with a small smile. 

Getting up, they went into the parlor and began setting up the pieces for what they hoped would be a short, friendly game.

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Bear was not having a good day. He had been bound to a total idiot as a totem spirit. What was worse, he couldn't seem to communicate with him to _tell _him he was an idiot. This Gene Sayerton seemed to think he was cursed, instead of blessed with one of the finest gifts any warrior of the Muskakur arts could receive. Hopefully, Maiden was having an easier time with the idiot's son. The boy seemed to have a natural talent for the art of combat, but was rough around the edges. That was why Maiden had chosen him. His potential would make him a great spirit warrior someday. Not for the first time, Bear regretted being so eager to get a charge. If he had waited, _he_ could have trained the boy instead of the idiot.

_Feeling blue, Bear?_ Maiden said from behind him.

_A little,_ he admitted grudgingly. _How's it going with your charge?_

Better than I expected, she said thoughtfully. _Did you know that he's to be engaged to one of the last three women of the Muskakur line?_

He is? Bear was shocked. They had thought that disease and battles with the Naxe and Thunderbird tribes had completely destroyed the Muskakur. _How did you find that out? I haven't been able to get the hang of this "English" from my charge's mind yet._

Well, she said smugly,_ my charge isn't quite as stupid as yours. _She stuck out her tongue at Bear, then giggled._ He actually asked for advice from me! Granted, he didn't know I was there to give advice, but he still asked. He took it, and has already told one of the girls about his gift. _A slight pout crossed her features._ But, he still seems to think it's something of a curse. It's all that stupid guide's fault! _As quickly as the dark mood came, it went, and Maiden turned away.

_See you later, Bear!_ she said cheerfully. _My charge is going to need some help if he's going to marry the girl of his dreams!_

Bear waved farewell, then turned his attention back to his charge. _Maybe I can learn the language while he's busy with this game he's playing, _he thought. Nodding to himself, he entered his charge's mind, such as it was, and began rooting around for the basics of English.

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Anne Tendollar felt like she had been run over by a train. A strange, muzzy sensation filled her ears, and she was having the strangest dreams. She had dreamt a strange girl had come to her house and been turned into a boy. _Utterly ridiculous_, she thought. _No way that could have happened._

A voice seemed to be saying something, but she couldn't make it out. Something about something being "all white?" No, that wasn't it.

"Anne," the voice said, concerned. "Anne? Are you all right?" The voice was gentle, barely above a whisper. From the tone, it could have come from a deep-voiced woman or a high-voiced man. She let that go for now.

Now that her hearing had come into focus, her mind began on her other senses. Touch settled in quickly, telling her she was being held gently by a pair of strong arms. A flash of concern sparked through her. She was being held by a _man._ And she'd been unconscious. She started to feel her temper flare up.

Trying to keep it in check, she let her other senses report in. Her nose detected sweat and canvas. That told her she was in the gym and someone had been using the equipment. _That's right,_ she thought. _Robin and I were sparring earlier._ Something had happened when they had finished, but she couldn't exactly remember what. Opening her eyes, she looked at the man holding her.

The concern in his startling blue eyes allayed some of her anger. Not all of it, that was certain, but it would do for now. Taking in the rest of his face, she noticed that he looked a lot like Robin. Could this be her brother? Then, it hit her. It was Robin. The girl she had sparred with had turned into a boy.

"Good," he said, his relief evident. "You're awake! I got worried when you fainted like that."

_He was worried about me?_ she thought, dumbstruck. Then, she realized she was in a rather compromising position with a boy she hardly knew. She jumped to her feet and pulled away from him, eyes wide.

"Wh-what happened?" she asked nervously. She looked at her erstwhile rescuer and did a quick evaluation. _Wow, he's incredibly handsome, _she thought, then shook her head. He was a man. And all men except her father wanted just one thing from girls. Her anger had begun to resurface.

"Um," he said hesitantly, "you fainted. I was able to catch you before you hit your head."

"That's not what I meant," she said with a bit of an edge. "How did you turn from a girl into a boy?" A thought occurred to her, which made her angrier. "Why did you get me alone like that?" Her voice was getting louder. She felt her blood beginning to boil. What kind of man would turn himself into a girl just to be alone with her? A pervert. She began to see red.

He looked around, then seemed to realize he was alone with a girl. He blushed crimson for an entirely different reason than Anne did.

"Sh-shouldn't w-we," he stammered, "go inside or somethin'? Where our dads are, I mean?" He cringed, as though he was expecting a blow.

Anne's anger went out like a candle. He was so scared. She knew just from sparring with . . . him that he was a really good fighter. And he was scared of _her_. Then, she remembered her promise. She'd sworn on her honor as a Muskakur to be Robin's friend. She released a potent sigh, then began to speak more calmly.

"I'm sorry, Robin," she said. "one of the first things all my friends seem to learn about me is that I have a bit of a temper." She grinned ruefully. "Still want to be friends?" She offered him her right hand. Shyly, he took it.

"Yes," he said softly. Letting her hand go, he turned to the house. "Shall we?"

"Let's," she said. "Father has some explaining to do."

"Both of our Pops do," he said bitterly.

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Roger Huntington was lost. He had been since he had left Totem Springs. This cursed fog wasn't helping matters, either. Only one thing gave him the courage to carry on. He would find Robin Sayerton and have his revenge.

He would have his revenge for the times he had been humiliated in school. He would have his honor satisfied for the challenge Robin had run away from. He would make Sayerton pay for making him suffer all the torments of Hell. He would force the coward to give him a cure for his curse. However, before he could do that, he needed to find the miserable wretch.

Sighing, he decided to ask for directions.

"Excuse me, sir," he asked a policeman. "Could you tell me how to get to San Francisco?"

The policeman stared at him in shock. He rubbed his nightstick along his tall helmet and shifted a little uncomfortably in the yellow gaslight.

"'Ere now," he said briskly, "What's all this abowt San Francisco, guv'na? That's one of those Yank cities, innit? Well, you're in the wrong part of the world for that, Yank!"

Roger's eyes grew cold.

"Don't," he said forcefully. "Call. Me. A. **_YANKEE_**!" His fist shot out, and the London Bobby was slammed into a wall, crushing bricks and knocking him out.

Adjusting the Confederate battle flag he wore as a bandanna, Roger checked his umbrella to make sure there were no holes in it. Satisfied, he walked into the smothering fog, grateful it wasn't wet enough to trigger a transformation.

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End file.
